


hey baby i hear the blues a-callin', tossed salad and scrambled eggs!

by InsideMyBrain



Category: CallMeKevin - Fandom, RTGameCrowd, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, First Meetings, Fish, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Meet-Cute, hitman 2, so im here to fix that, the fact that there's no Kevin x Daniel fics in this tag yet is a crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideMyBrain/pseuds/InsideMyBrain
Summary: Kevin's shitty gig at a fish market is about to get interesting.Or: five times Kevin saw Daniel, and one time Daniel saw right through him.





	hey baby i hear the blues a-callin', tossed salad and scrambled eggs!

**Author's Note:**

> first Kevin fic and also first RTGame/Daniel fic so go easy on me lol
> 
> Disclaimer: I only ship them in the hypothetical, I completely love and respect their IRL love lives, this is just me being creative and silly. Pls don't send this to them or anyone affiliated with them.

The first time Kevin sees him, he's intrigued.

The guy is young, probably near to Kevin's own age, dressed in a suit a little more appropriate for a middle aged business man and carrying a metal briefcase — totally not a suspicious look at all. On top of that, it's the middle of summer and climate change exists, so it's absolutely sweltering and this guy is layered up and he doesn't even look bothered. Kevin himself is drenched in sweat, a combination of being outside with nothing but a tarp to shield him from the sun's deadly rays and the physical exertion of packing, cleaning, and selling freshly caught fish. The guy is wearing sunglasses, which in itself is unremarkable, but when he takes them off, there's something odd about his face that Kevin can't pin down. Maybe it's his uncanny attractiveness or the hardened look in his eyes, but a shiver runs down Kevin's spine as he approaches.

"Hi, how's it going?" he greets Kevin, though a tad monotonously; he's busy scrutinizing the stall's menu of fish on offer.

"It's going well, thank you," Kevin replies in his standard customer service voice, flashing his charming smile. "What can I get for you today?"

"Cod, please," the guy replies, looking at Kevin properly for the first time. Kevin would be lying if he doesn't admit that his heart skips a beat.

"Sure thing, what cut?" Kevin asks, opening the ice box.

"Just whole."

This gives Kevin some pause. While requesting an uncleaned fish isn't unheard of, it certainly isn't common. Nevertheless, he shuffles some things around in the ice box to find the whole cod. "How many?"

"One."

Kevin looks up, and after a moment's hesitation, raises an eyebrow at him. The only response the guy gives is to quirk up the corners of his mouth. Kevin returns his attention to the ice box and retrieves the fish.

"That all for today?" he asks, wrapping the fish in paper.

"Yep," the guy replies.

Kevin tells him the price, and he pays in cash with exact change. He tucks the bundle under his arm, puts his sunglasses on, and with another smirk, he walks off. Kevin watches him go curiously.

Just before he turns the corner, Kevin sees him stop and unwrap the fish, holding it upright by its tail. He then throws the paper into a nearby garbage can, then turns out of Kevin's line of sight.

_Weird fecker,_ he thinks, then turns his attention to another approaching customer.

* * *

The second time Kevin sees him, he almost misses him.

He's taking his break, sitting at the back of the stall's tent and wincing his way through a coffee, when he hears the guy's distinctive voice.

"One cod please, whole."

Kevin looks up and does a double take. It's undoubtedly the same person, but today he's wearing a baker's hat and an apron, and carrying a blueberry muffin. _Did he change professions in a week?_ Kevin thinks.

He watches the guy until he gets his fish and leaves — luckily hidden by spare ice boxes, so the guy can't see him being a creep — then goes back to his coffee.

However, not even a minute later he hears the guy's voice again.

"Target?" He's speaking soft and low, and his voice is coming from the other side of the tent wall. Kevin parts the tarp and peeks through to see the guy standing there, holding a blueberry muffin and a raw fish, his head cocked to the side like he's listening intently. Kevin strains his ears, and then he hears, extremely softly, a female voice.

"Your target is James Sheppard, RT," she says. It's at this precise moment that Kevin notices two things: the black earpiece in the guy's left ear, and the tattoo of a barcode on the back of his neck.

Before he can scrutinize these more closely, the guy murmurs a "thanks" and slips away, leaving Kevin with his coffee and his thoughts.

_RT? Is that his name? Also, why is he talking to some lady about a target?_ Kevin briefly wonders if he could be some kind of secret agent, but then dismisses the idea. _Nah. This kind of stuff only happens in movies. He's probably just a weird guy_.

Still, he's unable to stop thinking about him for the rest of his shift.

* * *

The third time Kevin sees him, it's on the news.

MASSACRE TODAY AT RACE TRACK, the headline proclaims. Kevin watches the story with mild interest.

"Security was unable to apprehend the culprit and no survivors were able to provide any description of the person other than that they were wearing a flamingo mascot suit," the newscaster says. Kevin lets out a chuckle through a spoonful of ice cream; he has to admit, the idea of a massacre committed by a guy in a flamingo costume is kind of funny.

"Witnesses also say that the culprit attacked not only with guns, but by slapping people with a fish," the newscaster continues, and Kevin outright laughs this time.

Onscreen, a police photo flashes up: a single whole cod lying on the pavement, spattered with blood. Kevin's mouth drops open. "This was the weapon used in the attack," says the newscaster, and Kevin has no time to process that because the next thing on the screen is a shot of the crime scene with security officers everywhere, and in the background is RT, the guy Kevin has sold whole raw cod to, wearing a security uniform.

Kevin flips the TV off.

At first, he thinks he ought to go to the police.

_No way, _he reprimands himself. _If I tell them I sold the guy his weapon, they could probably arrest me as an accessory to the crime!_

No, he just has to take this to the grave with him. He's great at keeping secrets.

Too bad he keeps dreaming about RT.

* * *

The fourth time Kevin sees him, he's nervous.

It's the day after the massacre, and this time RT shows up in jeans and a T shirt and no sunglasses. Kevin's throat is drier than the Sahara and his heart is pounding, but he manages to ask, "the usual?" in a friendly voice.

"You know it," RT replies, shooting him a smile — a genuine smile this time, not a cold smirk. His eyes even have a twinkle in them today. Kevin doesn't know if it's terrifying or cute.

Maybe a bit of both.

Kevin sets about getting his fish, then says casually, "you know, it's funny that you have a usual order here already and I don't even know your name." He glances at RT in the corner of his eye.

RT smiles. "It's Daniel."

Kevin makes a confused face into the ice box. _So then RT can't be his initials_... he thinks. _Unless he's just lying_. He grabs the cod and straightens up, with the intention of wrapping it up and wishing this mass murderer good day, but something stops him.

"Don't you think," he finds himself saying, even though he's internally kicking himself, "cod is getting a bit repetitive?" Daniel just stares at him passively, so he continues on: "I mean, it might be wise... Er, a wise choice, I mean, to switch to another kind."

"Why?" Daniel asks, and the sudden icy tone in his voice shoots a jolt of fear into Kevin's stomach.

"I- well," he stammers, "cod's distinctive. They're easy fish to catch. If, uh, you know what I mean."

Daniel is silent for a few long moments. His eyes seem to bore into Kevin's, and he shifts uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

Then he smiles again. "Sure, why not?" His voice is loud and cheerful. His smile is too wide, his eyes too bright. "How bout a halibut-" he glances down at Kevin's nametag- "Mr. Kevin?"

Kevin gets it for him and wraps it up quickly, then hands it to him with a tight smile. "Have a good day."

Daniel takes it, holding it upright by the tail, and says, "oh, I will."

Then he swings, and all Kevin knows is black.

* * *

The fifth time Kevin sees him, he almost doesn't live to tell the tale.

He comes to slowly, his vision spinning and shifting, finally settling into a view of a clear blue sky.

Kevin blinks slowly, raising a hand to shield his eyes. He then sits up and looks around, taking stock of his surroundings — he appears to have been dragged behind a bush while he was knocked out.

"Ugh," he murmurs, clutching his head. He can feel a bump from where the fish made contact with him.

_Shit, the fish! Daniel!_ He thinks, immediately panicking. _Where am I?_ He jumps up and glances around, unable to recognize the public park he's in.

_Well, time to order an Uber,_ I guess, he thinks, pulling out his phone, but the sound of a certain voice causes him to freeze.

"Jesus, I thought I killed him," Daniel says, and Kevin swings around with a shriek. Daniel's pointing a gun at him now, and Kevin raises his hands in surrender, despite the twinges of pain in his shoulders.

"Wait, hold on, don't shoot!" Kevin yells. "God damn, you try to help one mass murderer avoid police detection and he tries to kill you over it!"

Daniel lowers the gun slightly. "It sounded like you were threatening me."

"No, for feck's sake, I was just offering some friendly advice," Kevin cries desperately.

"Huh." Daniel lowers the gun a little more.

"In all honesty, I thought it was kinda funny," Kevin says, offering a tentative laugh. "Killing people with a fish? That's great."

"I'm glad somebody appreciates my work," Daniel says, a familiar smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Y'know it's getting harder to find people who appreciate true comedic value." He lowers the gun fully, and Kevin breathes a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, clearly." Kevin lowers his hands. "Though, can I offer one more bit of advice?"

"Go for it," Daniel says, raising an eyebrow.

"Next time, I'd go for a monkfish," Kevin informs him. "They're really hard and dense, and also incredibly ugly. You could probably take someone out in one hit with a monkfish."

"I'll take that into consideration, thank you." Daniel tucks his gun into the waistband of his pants, and Kevin's eyes track the movement.

"So, uh..." Kevin says awkwardly, "I guess I'll be seeing you?" 

"Maybe," Daniel replies absentmindedly. Kevin nods and turns to go before he hears, "wait."

He turns back cautiously.

"Your job at the fish place," Daniel begins, "do you like it there?"

Kevin shrugs. "I mean, no. But it's a way to make ends meet."

"In that case, Mr. Kevin," Daniel says, sticking his hand in his pocket and drawing out a business card, "I might have an opportunity for you."

* * *

The sixth _(and seventh and eighth and ninth and thirteenth and twenty-seventh and fifty-third and-)_ time they see each other, they're working together.

They make a good team. Each matches the other's energy, and makes up for the areas in which he lacks. They end up forming a kind of synergy.

The seventy-fourth time they're on a mission together and Daniel catches Kevin looking at him _that_ way Daniel decides to do something about it. 

"What's the absolute most destructive weapon we have?" Kevin is asking, checking his briefcase. They're supposed to be sniping a corrupt president from the jungle just outside his lavish mansion, but they've mostly been using it as an excuse to lie comfortably side by side in the grass, talking and missing shots. "I know we're not supposed to make a scene, but I feel like today's a messy day. Ooh, how about a grenade?" he suggests, extracting it from the briefcase. He looks at Daniel for approval, and the eye contact ends up lasting much longer than it should.

Daniel props his chin up on his hand and rolls his eyes fondly. "You're a bad influence."

"Dude, I'm more like an enabler," Kevin jokes, "you know you want to."

"I regret recruiting you," Daniel teases.

"You could never!" Kevin gasps, mock-hurt. "Take it back!"

"Okay, fine," Daniel concedes, laughing. "Feel better?"

Kevin laughs too. "Yeah, loads. Thanks."

Their giggles subside after a moment, and they're left looking at each other awkwardly, the remnants of their smiles lingering. Kevin starts to look away, but Daniel reaches out and gently grasps his chin and, after an infinitesimal hesitation, leans in and kisses him.

Everything else in that moment kind of goes dull and fuzzy, like nothing exists in that moment but the feeling of Kevin's soft lips against his, his hand resting on his cheek, the stubble there scratching his palm, his breath feathering Daniel's face. They pull apart, and the sensory minutia come back to him: the grass tickling his skin, bright chirping of birds overhead, the way the sun slants and filters through the trees above them. 

"So the grenade, then?" Kevin asks quietly, a light pink blush settling into his fair skin. 

"Most definitely." Daniel hears Kevin pull the pin and fling the grenade as far as he can at the president's mansion. It lands, and there's a split second before it blooms into a striking cloud of orange and red and black, sending charred remains of the building flying. That split second before the explosion is always the most beautiful anyway, Daniel thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all enjoyed :) feedback is appreciated


End file.
